Main Street, the East End and the Wooly Adelgid

In February I visited Asheville, North Carolina. The week before I'd been in Raleigh and spring was swelling in the bushes. I was sure that I'd have the joys of early spring during my trip. I was there as part of a celebration of Asheville history as captured in the photographs of Andrea Clark, which were on exhibit at the public library. I was enthralled by her remarkable photos of a lost place, destroyed for road widening. While there, the newspapers reported on two topics that also caught my eye: the plans for Downtown Asheville and the wooly adelgid, which is attacking the hemlock forests which dominate the mountainsides. Thinking about Clark's photographs, downtown planning and ecological disaster helped me to grasp a point that my urbanism teacher, Michel Cantal-Dupart, has made many times. Cities are complex ecological systems, and demand that we consider questions from the perspective of history, our hopes for the future and the current ecological realities. I was delighted that my thoughts on this topic were recently published in Asheville's Urban News.

I had gone to Asheville expecting early spring, but forgetting that spring is notoriously unstable, hot one day and cold the next. And even, as in this case, snowing. A snowstorm hit, and absent plows and sanders, the snow shut the city and its airport down. I was delighted to find that Bistro 1896, which was a couple of blocks from my hotel, was open for lunch and dinner through the storm and its aftermath. The restaurant had a delicious menu, light, flavorful, and fun. It is a place that captures the charm and friendliness of the region. I highly recommend it, should you happen to find yourself in Asheville.

Overdevelopment and underdevelopment

Monday night, July 20th, I attended a birthday party for contractor Mark Miller and developer Patrick Morrissy. It was held at an old industrial building that Morrissy's organization, HANDS, Inc., is redeveloping into a restaurant, apartment, and artist studios. The party was held in the unfinished artist studios, with their roof still open to the sky and trees. The sound and hearty core of the building is still visible. Coquelle's Bakery used to occupy the site, and Jeannie Morrissy shared memories of what a lively place it was, and what delicious brownies they made there. Miller and Morrissy are giving new life to the building and to the corner of Scotland Road and Central Avenue, which looks down on its luck. That perception will change this week when Anthony Wood, the proprietor of Daily Soup, opens for business. He has a keen sense of fun and a bright, spacious restaurant which shades from casual in the front to more formal in the rear. Last night he delighted the partygoers with frozen yogurt mixed with outrageous toppings. The young Morrissys, Claire and Tim, promised to try all the combinations of three and write about their findings in their food blog. Food is fun in Orange, and the air is full of possibility. This photo of me withmy daughter Molly and mother Maggie was taken by Herb Way, who graduated with me from Orange High School back in 1967.

Today -- the 21st -- I had lunch on Palisades Avenue with Bob Stern, who lived in Englewood for many years before moving to Montauk. When asked what he was up to, he confessed, rather sheepishly, that he was the president of the Concerned Citizens of Montauk and was fighting developers who want to do irresponsible building. As this is exactly what he was doing in Englewood, he wanted to be the first to admit "plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose"!

Bob believes in democracy and makes it work by doing his part to hold people accountable to the larger society. He recounted lots of stories of confronting people who's irresponsible building poses a threat to the area's charm and sustainability. In listening to his stories of fighting of developers and their money, I was reminded of how hard Morrissy and his colleagues work to bring investors' dollars to Orange. In a reasonable world, the dollars that are poised to destroy Montauk would be redirected to Orange. Overdevelopment will wreck one beautiful and precious natural treasure, while underdevelopment is ruining a charming and creative little city. But the struggles of the two places are not yet linked, however much they need to be. Overdevelopment and underdevelopment are two sides of one coin: making a fast buck in real estate. Can we ease the greed and create places for people?

Paterson's Main Street

Karen Washington is a garden designer who has helped me transform my yard. This summer I have been enjoying the pleasures of the new design. I have been sitting in the yard to write while listening to the birds and watching the castor bean grow (it's a Jack-in-the-Beanstalk plant and grows right in front of your eyes). I wanted to thank her for this wonderful transformation in my space so I proposed dinner in Paterson. I found two Turkish restaurants online and I printed out the directions, in one case from Google and in the other from Yahoo. We started off following the directions, and just couldn't find the connections we were supposed to make. That's when it became apparent I hadn't printed out either the names or the phone numbers. I remembered one name -- sort of -- and we called for directions. We couldn't find those connections either, but at this point we decided to follow the signs which got us to Paterson. In Paterson we stopped a young woman coming out of a laundromat and asked how to get to Main Street. "Main Street?" she said, with what I thought was worry in her voice. "You go here and turn before the school, and go all the way down the hill and by the Falls and then to the bottom of the Falls by Burger King and then you make a left, and go to Main Street." At the part where she advised turning "before the school" my heart sank. But Karen got a big smile. "OK!" she said, thanking the woman. We headed off and sure enough, Karen knew exactly how to decipher "before the school," "by the Falls" and "left at Burger King." In no time at all we were on Main Street, heading towards we weren't exactly sure what. Suddenly, I saw a sign for "Alaturk" Turkish restaurant. I had seen this reviewed on the internet. We parked across the street, as advised in the window, and went in. I was a little intimidated, but a smiling young woman came forward and made us feel very welcome. We explained we didn't really know much about Turkish food. She immediately took an interest in introducing us to her cuisine and a feast of yummy dishes started to arrive from the kitchen, all fresh, delicately spiced and wonderfully fun to eat. The most spectacular was Turkish pizza, with a very thin crust and about two feet long, covered with chopped meat. She placed this on the latest edition of the Turkish news. We loved it. She explained that her family had just taken over the restaurant two weeks before. Her husband was the chef and he came out to say hello and we were delighted to tell him how much we enjoyed the food. They have great hopes for the restaurant which has a lovely space for a garden. When I explained that Karen was a garden designer, they asked for her card and took her back to see their yard. She immediately had visions of trees and arbors. I started thinking about grapes and how my own yard, transformed by her alchemy, is now such a wonderful place to pass the hours. When it was time to go, we asked for directions, got on the highway immediately and were home in less time than it takes to tell. I promised Karen that next time she goes on an outing with me, I'll take a map, the name of the restaurant, and the telephone number. She laughed.

Broadway, New York's Main Street

I am reading Jason Goodwin's detective series, set in Istanbul. This has inspired me to go to Turkey. As part of my travel preparation, my friend and co-worker, Lourdes Hernandez-Cordero and I set out for lunch at Turkuaz, a Turkish restaurant on Broadway at 100th Street. The food was wonderful: very fresh, delicately seasoned, and reminiscent of the meals prepared by Yashim, the star of Goodwin's novels. We went to the ladies' room prior to leaving and there was a painting of women at the hamam. Lourdes and I love to go to the hamam at the Great Mosque in Paris, and we were lamenting the lack of public baths here in New York. There are some, but they tend to be expensive and not the neighborhood affairs that one can find in other countries. The painting also made us think of bra shopping, and we reflected that there must be a great bra store on Broadway, one of those great places where the saleswomen can tell your size by glancing at you as you walk in. We could have just strolled down Broadway -- and in the beautiful weather it was tempting -- but we decided to see what we could learn by phone. She called her friend, who knew of a store on Madison and 90th Street, but we didn't want to leave Broadway. I called my daughter, Molly Rose Kaufman, who immediately went on line and located a place at 77th. A quick cab ride and there we were at Bra Smyth, which was a revelation for me. A short time later, better fitted, dazzled by the wonders of Broadway, and happy with our fieldwork, we headed back uptown to tend to matters at the office.

Naming "Benjamin F. Jones Place - In Honorarium"

Benjamin F. Jones (see post 4/1/08) was the first African-American elected to City Council in Orange, NJ. Yesterday, the City of Orange Township named a part of Cleveland Street in his honor. Asked to speak at the ceremony, I reflected on a story he loved to tell of a confrontation with my father, Ernest Thompson. Ben was not active in politics, though he was an accomplished professional. My father thought he should be, and would harangue him when they met at the Harmony Bar. One day Ben got tired of this. He threw some money down on the bar and told the bartender, "Set my man up with drinks, I'm out of here." My father ordered him to come back. "Ben, never walk out on Black folks like that. Furthermore, I don't need your money or your liquor without you." For Ben, this was not simply a dispute in a bar, but a deep moment of truth, as if God had spoken to him through Ernie Thompson, sitting on a stool in the Harmony Bar. From that day on, Ben accepted that he had responsibilities to the community that had raised him. He became a student of politics, adding to his innate sense of diplomacy new skills in campaigning, negotiating, developing program and delivering for his constituency. Ben became a man of honor, worthy of having a street named for him, and worthy of being remembered in the annals of Orange.

Making the Just and Beautiful City

The University of Orange is a free people's university on the web and in Orange, NJ. The University opened in October 2008 and held its first graduation yesterday at the historic Orange Public Library. The graduating class is pictured here on the Main Street steps. It was a busy first year, with courses on AIDS, making a Christmas stocking, displacement, and urban design, among others. In addition to attending courses, students were required to vote (all elections count!), attend a city meeting, volunteer and recreate with neighbors. One student reported that being part of UofO had inspired her. "I've lived in Orange for 22 years, but I've never been as involved as I have been this year." In addition to conferring the degree of "Be Free" two inspiring people were awarded the Doctor of Freedom, the university's honorary degree. Margaret B. Thompson helped to start the fight for school desegregation in the 1950s. Benjamin Franklin Jones served as a councilman in Orange from 1963-1982. They were the oldest graduates of the day. A'Lelia Johnson, at 13, was the youngest.

Jury Duty on Main Street

Last Tuesday I reported for jury duty to Room 404, the Bergen County Justice Center, 10 Main Street, in Hackensack. A step-by-step video instructed us in what to expect and then we got to get coffee. As we flocked to the little cafeteria, a staff member hollered, "The bus is here!" and then chuckled. Ha ha, make that joke every day. Coffee was excellent, and I took it with me to the quiet room. I read the NY Times inch by inch and finished it all. Then turned to The Baltimore Book, and had finished that when my name got called for a jury pool. We were led to the court of Judge Lisa Firko. She explained that her trial was short, she had air conditioning and it was, therefore, a good way to do our civic duty. I reflected on this, and decided to go with it. The jury selection process followed the video almost to a tee. First we all filled out a questionnaire. Then the judge asked potential jurors to come to the sidebar where she reviewed the questionnaire with the two lawyers listening. Some jurors had a reason they couldn't serve, and therefore were excused. Finally seven people were seated in the jury box, and Judge Firko said, "I'm going to ask a series of questions so we can all get to know a little bit about you." One of the questions was, "Do you have any bumper stickers on your car that aren't about politics?" I was surprised that nobody did -- it seemed to me there were more "Proud to have an honor student at ___" around than that, but maybe I was just noticing those stickers because I have one. Back to business. After we got to know everyone, the lawyers were allowed to exercise their peremptory challenges, those they can exercise without giving a reason. The case related to an injury as a result of a car accident. The first lawyer challenged two people with only high school education. Ah ha, I thought, a complex medical issue is involved, and the lawyer wants people who can handle the science -- I'm a shoe-in if I get called (although I do have that bumper sticker -- I wasn't clear how that would play...). On the other hand, I reasoned, the lawyer might not want a doctor. It was not always clear why the lawyers were challenging -- probably notes they took during the earlier sidebar conversations. After each of the challenges, a new person was called, and the process of sidebar-conversation-getting-to-know-you-conversation was repeated. A couple of times the new juror was challenged, and it all started again. Before we were had managed to pick seven people, lunch recess had arrived. I had never spent much time on the south end of Main Street, where the Justice Center is located. I got lunch at Limon Fine Foods, which has a delightful hot/cold salad bar and nice tables in a bright window. Then I strolled down the street to Hackensack Riverkeeper, where I got pamphlets on nature trails and other activities. The photos were so lovely that I wanted to walk right over to the river and sit and watch birds, but jury duty is serious business. I went back to Judge Firko's courtroom, where we finished jury selection. I was quite disappointed not to be picked, when all was said and done. We went back to Room 404 and I settled into my old seat in the quiet room until we got dismissed. Bergen County is a "one day, one trial" county, so having served my day, I am done for now. I can now spell peremptory, know a new meaning for sidebar, and have a book of nature walks in the glove compartment of my car: a good day, I say.